


Indecent Exposure

by AnontheNullifier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Is he doing it on purpose?, Slight Crack fic, Vision needs to learn to knock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnontheNullifier/pseuds/AnontheNullifier
Summary: The first couple of times Vision walks into her room at the wrong time, Wanda is horrified but assumes he doesn't know any better. But, when it happens again and again and again, she decides to figure out why. If she just so happens to realize her feelings for him along the way, then so be it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my obligatory "What have you talked about?" story. This is also going to be the last one for several weeks as I am entering into the holy trifecta of work stress - midterms, journal reviews, and federal research grant applications. So, when I get back in November, I am super excited to read a bunch of new stuff and have some plans for a longer story. Hope you enjoy!

The first time it happens, Wanda is mortified.

It is the third week of official training with the Avengers and, though her muscles are finally beginning to remember the correct positioning to defend and attack, her body aches in every joint and muscle. The ridiculously sized bathtub in her personal bathroom is the only thing she has ever appreciated about Tony and his input into the planning of the compound. Even then she would never utter those words out loud.

The alarm on her phone begins to buzz, indicating that their weekly team bonding activity (today is game night, which means invariably someone will end up yelling and someone will pout before the night is over) starts in fifteen minutes. She lays her head back and sighs, slowly shimmying her body until she is in a position to stand up. A hiss escapes her mouth at the cold air, which is her fault for turning the AC up to make it feel more like home, but when she reaches for her robe she realizes that it is still laying on the back of the chair in her bedroom. For a brief moment she considers just settling back into the water and skipping the game night, but she knows that if she is late her personal fun sentinel will come and give her his stunningly blue puppy dog eyes and insist that humans can only build companionship by interacting together.

So she cautiously steps out of the tub and jogs over to the chair, picking up the soft, cherry robe and turning it around until she finds the arm holes.

“Wanda, I was hop-”

Wanda looks up and finds Vision’s face halfway through the wall. “Get out!” She scrambles backwards towards the bathroom but ends up tripping on her robe, splaying out on the ground naked and most likely with some new bruises. “Dammit.” There is silence and so she thinks that he got the hint, until she feels hands grab her arms in order to help her up. “Vision! Shut your eyes and don’t touch me.”

His eyes briefly widen before he obediently squeezes them shut and takes his hands away, standing up and stepping back from her for good measure. “Are you injured?”

“Nope,” Wanda quickly gets to her feet and securely double knots her robe shut. For some reason she hesitates in telling him to open his eyes, instead studying how the lines on his forehead meet when his eyes are closed and his lower lip pulls just slightly into his mouth with concern. “Okay, you can open your eyes.” The way he slowly peels his eyelids apart, hesitantly and with a small amount of fear evident on his face, she can’t help but find him endearing, incapable of understanding personal boundaries, but endearing. “What did you want?”

“Oh, yes,” his fingertips tap together while he prepares his thoughts, “I was hoping for your opinion on this sweater color.”

She inhales slowly, fingers curling into an annoyed fist and then unfurling at the wash of sympathy she feels, watching him shift his weight ever so lightly from foot to foot. For a man who might very well be some sort of god, his lack of self-esteem with clothing is oddly adorable. “Come here,” she grabs his arm and pulls him to stand in front of the full body mirror. Her hand moves to touch his back as they both scrutinize his outfit . “I think the maroon actually washes you out.”

“Ah yes, I can see that now.” His eyes meet hers in their reflection. “What would you recommend?”

“Try navy blue.” The sensation of his clothing morphing under her hand makes it tingle. “Yeah, that looks nice. Maybe some light gray pants.” Her lips lift in encouragement and she watches as his mouth mirrors hers, relief sagging his shoulders just barely enough to notice. “Okay,” Wanda pats his back, “Why don't you grab us some seats so neither one of us gets stuck between Natasha and Rhodes.”

Vision turns marginally towards her, nodding his head on agreement. “Yes, that position is most uncomfortable.”

“Oh and Vision?” He stops his retreat to look at her, “Please knock next time.”

“Of course.” Once he leaves the room she lets out a breath that she metaphorically had been holding the entire time and walks towards her bed. Promptly and ungracefully she falls face first onto the mattress and screams into her pillow, unsure how she is supposed to go and sit next to Vision all night.

 

In hopes that it was just a one time occurrence, Wanda never brings up the incident with Vision and he, whether because he is ignorant of what was wrong or maybe is afraid to remind her, never does either.

The second time she is not completely naked instead she is standing in her underwear contemplating what to wear. Vision is supposed to come by in ten minutes so they can discuss the new paired training regimen established by Natasha.

Wanda finally decides on a dress but has to search through numerous piles of clothes to find the cardigan that goes best with it.

“Good afternoon, Wanda.”

“Ah!” She dives into her closet and shuts the door, heart racing and the distinct warmth of a blush crawling across her face. There is no noise from the room but Wanda is aware now how quiet Vision can be. A gentle rap on the door causes her hands to grab the nearest shirt and pull it on. “Yes?”

“I perceive that I may have broken another unspoken rule.”

They have already had several conversations concerning social norms and the way it may cause their teammates to feel uncomfortable when these rules are violated. Though Wanda is becoming more adept at picking up his emotions, she realizes now how much she relies on looking at him because there is something in his voice but she can't identify it. With a sigh and finally locating some pants, she opens the door. “Vision,” the confusion on his face pulls her towards him until her hand is resting on his arm. “It's just that I was not dressed and you did not knock again.”

His lips slant downwards into a frown. “I am not sure I comprehend the difference in what you had been wearing and your swimming attire.”

An unbidden thought briefly crosses her mind, wondering what he thought of her swimsuit, but she shakes it away before proceeding. “When we are swimming I know everyone is going to see me, but when I'm in my room in my underwear, it's not meant for anyone else.” Wanda notes that he is about to speak and is certain he's going to bring up all of the movies and shows they have watched where this is not the case and so she cuts him off. “Now there are exceptions. For example, If I choose to change in front of Natasha, I'm okay with her seeing me, or if I was dating someone, also okay because I choose to be seen.”

Vision glances down at her hand that is still on his arm and she pulls it away, realizing that she is breaking social convention with extended physical contact. “So since I was not invited and am not in consideration as a significant other, it was an intrusion on your privacy. I apologize for my actions.” As he finishes his thought he leaves her room and Wanda thinks there may have been a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes that may or may not have led to the fluttering in her stomach.

 

 

The thing is, after the eighth time he walks in on her, she begins to wonder if it really is an accident. He insists that it is and even offers to stop coming to her room altogether, which she quickly shoots down and keeps re-emphasizing the importance of knocking. Natasha finds the situation hilarious and cackles about it over vodka while the rest of the team is gone. Tonight they are about halfway through the bottle, movements growing looser and more erratic. “Do you think he even has hormones?”

Wanda sips her screwdriver thoughtfully. “He definitely gets nervous, which I think requires hormones.”

“How can you tell?” Vision once told her that he perceives intoxicated voices as being cursive, the words looping and slurring together in one long, unintelligible string. The thought makes her smile as it takes a few more seconds than normal to comprehend Natasha's question.

“Oh, it's pretty easy,” she thinks back to the last time he walked in on her, it was after training when she was peeling away her sweaty clothes. Once she wrestled her shirt off she looked up and was met with his surprised face, her lunch in his hands. “His eyes widen and he does this thing with his mouth that kind of makes him look like a fish.” Wanda finds that she is having a hard time forming clear thoughts and so she demonstrates it for Natasha, slowly opening and closing her mouth, lightly smacking her lips for an exaggerated effect.

Natasha laughs and then, on the turn of a dime, jolts up, sitting straight with a devious smirk which sobers Wanda up enough to feel concerned. “You should test if it's on purpose!”

 

As is the very nature of humankind, drunken revelations rarely feel as convincing once the hangover has passed and logical thought resumes. Wanda finds herself hesitating in her plan, fingers tangling nervously in the belt of her robe. Vision returned from a mission the night before and though she was asleep, the present left on her nightstand indicates that he did visit. There is little doubt in her mind that he will stop by this morning, and she wonders if today is even ideal for the first test of the “I swear it was an accident” excuse. A surge of bravery breaks her resolve and she unties the robe, letting it hang open just enough to be revealing. As the minutes pass by she slowly inches the robe closed, feeling embarrassed that she stooped so low, but what concerns her more is that there is a hollowness in her stomach because he did not show up.

Wanda plops down onto the bed, crossing her legs in front of her and picking up the box left on her nightstand. The tradition of bringing tokens back started when she went on her first mission without Vision. While walking through an open air market in Nice she found a battered, antique copy of the Aeneid and a small collection of artisan olive oils. Vision was so appreciative of the gift that he, for the first time, initiated a tentative hug.

Her fingers run along the smooth edges of the wooden box, enjoying the feeling of the grain pattern before unlatching the lock and gasping at its contents. She gently picks up the scarlet and gold painted nesting doll. “Do you like it?”

Wanda glances up at Vision, a smile automatically pulling her mouth up. “I love it, reminds me of home.” With great care she places the nesting doll back in the box and throws herself at him, confident that he will catch her. “How was the mission?”

“Fairly uneventful.” His words cause the hair on her head to sway as she remains nuzzled in his arms. “I am unsure how to feel when they all surrender upon my appearance.”

The image of a confused Vision being surrendered to makes her laugh and a warmth spreads through her chest as she rises up on her toes and kisses his cheek. “Perhaps you-” she pulls away and notices his eyes are wide and his mouth is opening and closing ever so slightly, “Vizh?”

“Your,” he averts his eyes, ever the gentleman, and points at her robe causing her to realize she never tied it shut. “My apologies,” and he phases down through the floor.

Now she is fairly certain of two things: one, his poor timing is on accident and two, Vision definitely gets nervous about her in particular. Unfortunately she is unable to parse out if his nervousness would have occurred based solely on the kiss, since it was the first time she had been brave enough to follow through. The implications of which begin to form an amorphous cloud around her that she must sort out before moving forward with whatever plan seems best.

 

That night, in the quiet of a slumbering compound, she finds him on the roof, eyes sweeping across the vast expanse of the star studded sky. Wanda is aware that he uses this time to meditate on the day’s events, to allow the calmness of eternity to wash across his mind, that it is sacred. But he has always foregone it in order to help her, to comfort her when she is having a nightmare, or if it was a particularly bad training day, and the second day they were at the compound he gave her an open invitation to join him whenever. With a shaky inhalation she steels her nerves and approaches him. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“It is.” When he glances down at her she is stunned at the concern and guilt pulling at the corners of his eyes. “I wish to apologize for earlier. Based on numerous calculations and simulations, I cannot fully understand my propensity to arrive at the most inopportune time. There is, of course, going to be a couple of instances based solely on the number of times I pass through your room, but statistically speaking, these occurrence are more than should exist. I have endeavored to map your schedule and am confident that going forward I shall no longer surprise you when you are indecent.”

Wanda loops her arm through his and leans into his side, head falling perfectly on the edge of his shoulder as if he was made just for her. “Vizh, I have a confession.” He does not talk but she can feel his eyes on her. “I may have started out testing to see if you were showing up on purpose but then I forgot to tie my robe shut when I abandoned the plan.” She is expecting anger or upset silence, not a cocky lopsided smirk. “What?”

“I did not wish to presume, but after today’s incident, I entered two new variables into my model, one of which accounted for a majority of the unexplained variance.” He hesitates and his face shifts back to neutral. “My hypothesis was that perhaps one or both of us are unconsciously shifting the schedule to coincide with my visits, and it happened to be your actions that fit the model.”

The presumption (accusation?) catches her off guard and her only response is denial. “You don't follow a schedule.”

Vision smirks again, a playful glint to his eyes, and Wanda determines it is a face reserved only for her. “Barring any meetings or trainings, I rotate back to your room every hour and fifteen minutes.”

She opens her mouth to deny the information further but her life is fairly chaotic and unscheduled. If he shows up at the same time, she honestly is unsure if she would notice. “Doesn't mean you shouldn't knock.”

The rarity of his laughter means that the way his chest rises and falls with the lilt in his glee, this reduction of his stoicism to a loosely controlled carefree attitude, is intoxicating. Drunk on his laughter, she lifts her hands to rest on either side of his face and devours his joy with her lips. To his credit, his reaction time is only marginally delayed by surprise and then his arms gingerly wrap around her waist and his lips move in rhythm with hers.

When they pull apart, the devotion in his eyes makes her unsure if she can stay standing. As if he can read her thoughts, his arm encircles her waist, pulling her against his body, and they stand in companionable silence watching the stars, her head perfectly snug on his shoulder. “I am serious about the knocking.”

 

In the week that follows, Vision stays true to his word and has managed to stick to a schedule that does not overlap with any showers, baths, or changing times. Wanda finds it a little sad and unexciting, which should concern her. Instead she begins to track the timing of his visits, or as best she can because the way he kisses her each time he stops by makes everything around her go fuzzy. He is due to arrive in exactly one minute and if her robe just happens to come undone a bit, how is she to control the natural loosening of terrycloth. Right on time a hesitant knock can be heard. Wanda rolls her eyes at him choosing this one time to actually be polite since he still phases through her wall without fanfare nine times out of ten.

“Come in!”

“Wanda I just-” Vision freezes at the sight of her, mouth beginning to open with the dilation of his pupils. “I apologize that this is a bad time.”

Her red tendrils wrap around his arms and pull him back through the wall. “Vizh , you're right on time.”


End file.
